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Throughout the summer, I took a trip or two to the beach. As I sat there, just staring at people walking by, I started to let my thoughts take over. I wrote this poem just as the sun was beginning to set, as the families started packing up their things, and as the waves began to crash even more violently than before. It was that time of day where time seems to stop. Everything around you slows down and becomes so peaceful that you feel like you are sitting on air.

After sitting there for quite some time, with my notebook in my lap, I realized how late it was actually getting. I started to pack my own things up to head home, but before I left, I looked at the sandcastle the family next to me left behind when they went home. It was beautiful; all of the broken pieces of shells covered the top tier of the castle, and a single piece of seaweed was wrapped around the bottom layer. It was just about up to my knees, maybe even a bit taller, but I’m sure that to the kids who built it, they felt as if the sandcastle was big enough for them to live in it.

As I walked away from the ocean, the warm sand, and all of the sandcastles, I turned to look back at my footprints. Maybe someday, someone else will walk along the same path as those footprints, and it will lead them right to the ocean.

It certainly has been quite awhile since I’ve posted anything. But I do have some new material! Before I post some of my newer, more recent poems and things, I want to show this specific poem. I wrote it a long time ago, and I am not sure how I even remembered I had this.

I’ve had this sudden realization during the past few days. Not knowing something that everyone else is aware of is like waiting for rain in the middle of a drought. Sometimes, you can feel like you are the only one who doesn’t know what everyone else is talking about, and that makes you feel left out; maybe even lonely. But you know what? I’m sure you know something that they don’t. Things change all the time. So why are we surprised when we become unaware of an event happening around us? It is possible we just don’t pay attention to the world spinning around us, but I like to believe that since the world is always turning, our lives are always changing. It is the constant cycle of life.

There is something that never really changes – the sun always rises in the morning, and sets at dawn. That is one fact we can be pretty sure of.

I know people say this a lot, but change isn’t always a bad thing. I used to think that everything that resulted from change would make my life worse in some way. I admit I was wrong. But, to say the least, change isn’t always a great thing either.

It’s like finding the balance between light and dark in a photograph, or between black in white in a charcoal picture. Art is as unpredictable as life. Or, the other way around: life is an unpredictable as art.

The creative thinking behind every work of art, whether it is a poem, a painting, a sculpture, etc., is unique to each individual person. Everyone’s thoughts are as different as they are (which is a good thing!) If everyone’s hopes and dreams were the same, how would anything ever get accomplished?

Have you ever felt like one day, there is no point in doing anything? Nothing at all? Even when you are sure that no matter what you do, something will come back around? One word – Karma.

I am a firm believer that what you do, how you act, how you present yourself, and in what ways to you share your talents will always come back around back to you, for better or for worse. I try to live life to the fullest, but sometimes, it seems like nothing you do will make anything better. But you know what? Then I always think of one word: Karma.

I wrote this poem on a day when it was windy, a bit foggy, and I was in a really depressing mood. But somehow, through my deepest thoughts, I came up with this. I hope interpreting it isn’t too much trouble. But hopefully it will make you think closely about the words more than you would have during a day when everything was going your way. 🙂

Further

A maze of uncharted territory

Lost in a sea of words

Common life, strong gestures

A maze of occurrences in

The common word

Outside, like in the middle of the desert

Willing eyes looked into the maze

The center of the maze looked back

A maze of words that want to be written

The thread follows each, and I try to grasp hold of it as it passes by me

Sometimes it seems like everything is falling apart, but honestly, doesn’t the next day or two always seem a bit better? As I’ve learned from experience, that rough day (or week, in some cases) will always improve, no matter how difficult is seems to be.

Find your common ground, and glue your feet to it so it won’t move out from under you when you aren’t paying attention.

The Shadow of Petals

The sun streamed into the windows as morning broke

Like when you see a flower bloom for the first time

And how it seems as if an uncountable number of petals will fall before it does not grow anymore

The sun decided when it wanted to shine though the slightly opened window

But you cannot decide when you want it to leave you alone

It will leave you be when it gets tired

But no sooner, and no later

It notices you too, you know

How much longer will you wait until you have the chance to become familiar with it?

My day was going pretty well, until I found out that my one of my best friends was in a bad mood. One of her family friends had passed over the weekend. I felt so sorry for her. But, there was really nothing that I could do at the moment.

So I’ve decided that I will make her brownies for herself and her family to enjoy.

But, in the meantime (while the brownies are in the oven), I wrote a poem. Not really related to the tragic day, but you may be able to catch a glimpse of my thoughts.

There are so many voices in my head – the only way I know how to keep them all straight is to write poems. My train of thought may run off the tracks a bit, but that is what traffic lights are for. 🙂

Names and Lost Songs

The river flows through and through, consistent with the tribal words that sing into the night

But the riverbank no longer hears the sounds of the many ghosts that whisper in its ear

It cannot remember the names of those who were only recently forgotten

If it weren’t just a river, it would have gone all the way into the larger sequences

It held on tight to the names it remembers

Although the river moved into the heart of the riverbank

The lyrics to the tribal song were flowing into its mind

It has not lost the names

The names of the souls who had returned

Returned to the riverbank, where so many were saved, but so many forgotten

Well, it is Valentine’s Day. I love this holiday, but at the same time, I get dizzy from all the pink and red and flowers and candy and chocolate…

My friend told me today that Valentine’s Day should be renamed to “Single’s Awareness Day”. I thought it was very good insight.

I was proud of myself for making it through today with my head held high. All I did today was write poetry. My notebook is now a little bit too full, but that is fine. Anyway, Valentine’s Day is a day to hold your head up, put it in the clouds, and let it sit there. You can think about anything you want, and no one will bother you (most likely) because today is special. My friends and I celebrate today by buying a bag of candy and eating it all…I always feel guilty afterwards, but oh well. It’s Valentine’s Day.

“Because time runs out.” I said this to my friend the other day in response to a question proposed to me: “Do you believe in love at first sight, and if so, why?” Now, my friend asked me this in a friendly conversation, but we are really close and I value their opinion very much.

I have a question for you: Do you think that we are shown inspiration directly, or do we see a form of love and we perceive it to be inspiration?
I asked my very close friend this the other day, and I was told to ask it to as many people as possible. They said thinking about it brightened their day, and to my surprise, I agreed to share this thought.